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Lowell Brueckner

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An Allegory... part 1


I begin the book, God Made the Country, with a dream that I had many years ago. Fortunately, I wrote the details, so they are quite accurate after the passage of a few decades. I mingle an interpretation, which I hope is accurate, with the account of the dream.

From that point on, I let my imagination take over, in an allegory, which is somewhat based on actual situations and experiences. In the book, I leave the allegory behind and go on with the theme that I wished to convey. The same sequence is repeated in every chapter.

However, in this post and several others, I will simply give you the dream and the allegory. It brought a smile to my face, when one young man, who bought the book, told me that he had only read the allegory, without reading the teaching that followed. Well, you are going to have a chance to do the same. I hope that you enjoy it.


One night many years ago, I dreamed a dream. I saw myself in a long, but narrow and plain, assembly hall filled with people. It was a great congregation, the general assembly of the first-born, those who had been called out of the world and set apart for the King. It was an unadorned place, because the people, who had built it in years past, were not looking for the niceties of this world, but only those things which could be useful to promote their King’s business. The hall was narrow, because the truth, into which these people had entered, did not allow for broad opinions or a liberal lifestyle.

I was seated near the back of the building and I looked up at the clock on the wall. The appointed time for which we had gathered had passed, we were behind schedule in fulfilling the will of the King, but just then, there was a commotion by the rear door. It opened and several men entered and, although I only recognized one of them, an elderly statesman, I was led to understand that these were ambassadors for the King’s affairs throughout the world. The old gentleman had spent most of his life in the Dark Continent. He carried a folding chair – of course, he was a stranger and a pilgrim and therefore could not think of settling himself into anything permanent on this planet.

He walked only about one third of the way down the aisle, then turned around, opened the seat and sat down. He addressed only those of us sitting in the back seats and those who seemed to be roving around behind the seats. Then, I understood that those in the front of the congregation were the spirits of righteous men made perfect. They no longer had to be concerned with the report which we imperfect ones were about to receive, because they had moved on to higher things. 

Most of us, who should have been listening, were not paying much attention, particularly a group who ambled around behind the last seats, talking to one another. I wondered if they were those about whom I had read, who could not endure sound doctrine, but will turn their ears away from the truth. The elderly man soon rose and walked to the front, asking that a video tape be rewound to its beginning.

Now this film concerned the commission that the King had commanded all of us to do, before He went into a far country. In the very first scene, which appeared on a screen in the front, was a group of people sitting in white togas, in the style of the native costumes on the Dark Continent. One of them arose, walked towards the camera and then uttered these few words, “This is a holy people.” Ah yes, the King had commanded that his people should go around the world with a message of good news that, if people would believe, they would live forever. However, the messengers were to be sure that these believers would also become followers of the King, and would be separated from all that displeased Him and do all that He commanded, so that they would be worthy to bear His name. This was the original intent.  

Then, a second scene appeared and seemed to be the principle and most important part of the presentation. There was a house with a long, narrow yard (similar to the shape of the building, in which we had assembled), with walls surrounding the yard. This place, though it was a home, was the base of operations for the King’s business. The walls were built to keep out that which would steal, contaminate and destroy. Inside was only that which was pleasing to His Majesty. A stream flowed the length of the yard and under the large solid gate at the far end of the compound, to the world outside. I heard the stream described as “pure and clean”, and certainly those were the proper terms. It was clear as crystal, so clear that, if it were not moving, it would be invisible. It did not flow directly through the earth, but so that the ground would not dirty it, ran through a shallow channel, which looked something like porcelain.

The speaker talked about the necessity of having a place, with such a stream, that from it, the message of good news, which was to be carried to all people on the planet, could be properly presented. It did not appear to be a large stream, put I understood that there was great hidden power in it.

The speaker also reported different activities that were actually taking place. He came to a situation about which he seemed hesitant to talk, but being a faithful reporter, he mentioned it. He said that it was being conducted in a sweat house. Because of my background, as the son of one of His Majesty’s representative among the natives on our continent, I knew that a sweat house was a very small hut, where an enemy king, called the dragon, was served and his people hoped that their ailments would leave, when the sweat escaped through the pores of their bodies. However, the activity that was being reported was said to be done in honor of our King. “More needs to be said about this,” said the old man. Being a man of great experience, I could see he was troubled by this recent practice. Apparently, elements and influences were entering, which mixed the King’s service with that of the foreign and evil king.

The ambassador returned to the subject of the compound and stream. He emphasized, “This is the need! If we had had it, a great disaster would have been averted.” He began to describe a massacre of many of those, who were in the King’s service. In fact, only one representative escaped and did so by putting on a horribly ugly mask. Upon seeing it, the murderous mob of superstitious natives moved aside and let this one live.

Because these representatives did not know to move along with the pure stream, but were relying upon their own tactics and strengths, the giant mob was able to challenge and attack them. They had actually crossed over into the enemy’s territory and therefore were very vulnerable. However, if the victims had only known to follow the stream, the mob would not have dared to cross it.

The scene again changed and a number of us were inside the house in the compound. Seated was a lady, weeping convulsively. She had lost all her companions and her family in the massacre. Families, especially, were the victims of the compromise that made use of the enemy’s property. This was the escapee, who actually had turned to the dragon’s mask for help. She described the massacre, as if she were reliving the event, and her voice reached a high emotional pitch. In my dream, I now expected an authoritative command in the name of the King to dispel the evil power that had invaded and destroyed her life, but she only shouted, “Get away, get away!” in the native tongue.

I saw she was broken because of her great loss. She bowed her head now and muttered, “If only ....” and again began to weep. I knew she was also referring to the lack of that pure stream.  There was no consolation in her escape. She recognized too late, that she had not lived according to the life that flowed in the stream and had taken up questionable practices. I suppose, she relived the massacre for the rest of her life. We serve a good, but jealous, King and He will judge His people. It is a terrifying thing to fall into His hands of judgment.

The presentation continued in the hall, the elder statesman had moved off the platform, but now, I was in the foyer talking with a friend. We were both desperate. The King, who had sponsored the film, was asking for a quota. I knew that most of those people, among whom I had been sitting, because of their levity and indifference, would never be willing to pay it. We also did not have the means in ourselves to pay it and there was no earthly place, where we knew to get it. The quota was needed, in order that the King’s good news could be delivered through the flow of the pure stream to all the people on the planet. (I believe, our desperation would have to convert into a petition, signed by all the serious people of the King that we would be able to find. In this way we would unitedly plead for help from the beautiful and rich city which is above - the source of the stream.)  My friend said, “We have to meet the quota!” and I awoke.

Chapter 1
God Made the Country

Years have passed since that meeting in the hall. I heard that the old ambassador to the Dark Continent died. Also my good friend died, who shared with me the same urgency and passion to pay the quota that the King demanded. Someone who was with him, when he could no longer leave his bed, asked, “If you could do one more thing, what would it be?” My friend answered, “The only desire that I have left, is to be able to cross south of the border to climb one more mountain one more time, taking the good news of the King to people who have not heard.”

The godly man ceases to be, for the faithful disappear from among the sons of men. The quota still has not been paid, so one day I decided that I must leave everything behind to see what more I could do to fulfill it. I would look for others also, who were seriously thinking of completing our Majesty's commission. They would have to be people, who knew the value of the pure Stream, moved by the Spirit of the King. We could join hands and walk together, following the Stream, and give our lives to satisfy the King's heart. I would begin now to search for them.

I felt that they could better be found, if I would walk in the country, outside the city. Many in the city professed to love the King and yet, in practical ways, they had other motivations and activities that clambered for their attention. They lived a synthetic life in that world of large buildings, concrete and electric lines. They were in love with the diversions that the city offered on every block and were running a race to get money. It demanded their involvement in enslaving work, trying to reach cheap goals.

The city people did not like the King, when He came to live among them. He had to pass the nights outside, sometimes on a hillside under the stars or sometimes in the home of country people.  He was judged, mocked and beaten inside the city, then pushed outside, and upon a small knoll, executed by nailing his feet and hands to a Roman cross.

I found that, when I tried to give His message to the city people, they either did not have time to listen or they would joke about it. Some would become angry and there were times, when my life was in danger. Those who claimed to be the King's people did not like to hear about the quota, because they had so many other expenses to meet.

So I walked along a country path that has been known for many generations as the Way of Faith. It seemed to me that the natural beauty, which I observed, would make my King very content. He loved the song of the birds, the brilliant greens and blues of nature and the soft breeze in the fresh air. Certainly before long, I would find others, who loved the same atmosphere that the King loved, and wanted to please him....

Chapter 2
A Place Called Heaven

... All of the King's people hold citizenship from a place called New Jerusalem, and though their physical characteristics are not unlike the citizens of this world, their inner constitution is totally different. Down through the centuries, certain genes, called adamic factors, have been cultured in those of earthly origin and are dominant. Although these factors are also found in those who are citizens of New Jerusalem, they are not dominant and they have other features, which are totally absent in the earthly citizens. One of these is a well of spiritual water springing up to eternal life.

Coming into a wooded area and gazing at the created wonders around me, I became conscious of that inner well, washing all care and distress away, so that peace filled my being and my soul began to worship. I was concerned however, as I walked, that I would soon know, whether or not I was near the King's Stream. I had not thought about it very long before I came to a break in the trees and saw, very close on my right hand, the Stream was flowing parallel to my path.

I went to its bank and sat on a large rock. Far above my head, a hawk circled and I thought how men had tried to imitate its created gift of flight. I contemplated the tremendous expense in building an airplane, in the amount of training involved in learning to pilot it and the endless regulations to control air travel. The creature above me needed no training whatsoever, but soared in the rising currents, without having to open a book to study meteorology. He did not have to check with any control center.  He glided in perfect freedom and without moving a feather, for the pure delight of it.

At my feet was a little plant, which I happened to touch with the side of my shoe. An inbuilt signal flashed and the plant closed. Had an insect triggered it, instead of my shoe, it would have been trapped and devoured. Within that little piece of living vegetation were all the features and signals that man has tried to copy with wood and metal to build a trap. The ways of creation are so superior to the technology of men. The wonders all around me were unending and one could spend a lifetime studying them. Some do exactly that.

Relaxing by the Stream, I pulled the King's handbook from my backpack (I always carried it with me) and opened the cover. Listening to the murmuring of the Stream, while reading its pages, can become an unearthly experience. I read for a while near the beginning about three patriarchs, three generations who lived in tents, because they were looking for an eternal city, not made by human hands. Then I turned near the end of the book, continued to read and suddenly, the book took the form of an open door and I heard a voice saying, “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after these things.”

I saw then, what all the King's people must see, so they will not forget where they have their citizenship and so that they will not become entangled with the affairs of everyday life. I saw a city, which defies imagination, the construction of which was far different and incomparably superior to anything man had built on this planet. Everything was full of life and had an indescribable beauty. The vision burned an impression in my soul that could never be removed and moved down into my heart..... 


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